


True Blessings

by Darian_MacGyver



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darian_MacGyver/pseuds/Darian_MacGyver
Summary: My version of the aftermath of the mountain argument from the end of the episode 1x06.AKA: The OTHER obligatory fic from this fandom.Proofread by Kyn Moonlight
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 321





	True Blessings

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

Geralt felt anger and grief and many other confusing emotions that he had normally managed to push down and keep at bay, coursing through his veins. Burning every rational thought in his mind like acid as he practically spat those words at the innocent bard, whose only true crime was trying to help and make him feel better. 

Jaskier stood there stunned and hurt expression on his face, body frozen. Eyes filling with unshed tears. The skin of his face paling to white, from the shock at the unfair accusations practically thrown at him.

The Witcher turned his back towards the younger man biting his lips until they practically bled, to prevent himself from yelling anything else, but knowing in resignation he had already said enough. 

Too much actually, to be ever forgiven. 

Destroying the last close remaining relationship of his life he had left in their wake as a result.  
People say count your blessings and be careful what you wish for. Geralt now hated both of those sayings with a fierce passion for how truthful they both were.

A true friendship was one of those lives blessings, that had been freely offered over and over and kept being rebuked with threats of bodily harm and growled curses. Until just now when he had practically spat on it and Jaskier too in the process.

Geralt had expected him to leave any moment now. Fulfilling his hastily spoken and untrue wish to be left alone on the Path with only Roach as company. Alone like he had not been for the past almost twenty years, since he first met his only friend, in that inn in Posada.

But instead of hearing footsteps of the younger man walking away and leaving him forever, he was only greeted by deafening silence.

After an agonisingly long few moments so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat slowly calming down, each following beat of it feeling like an eternity, it was replaced by the sound of rustling of a fabric for some reason. 

And then the Witcher’s sensitive hearing detected steps on the gravel coming surprisingly “towards” his direction.

Jaskier walked around him so they could stand face to face, his normally light cornflower blue eyes darkened with deep anger looking up to his and holding a familiar dagger in his right hand. The knuckles whitened with the strength he was clutching the metal.

It was the same dagger Geralt had given him all those years ago when they first started to travel together. The Witcher was surprised that the bard still owned it since it had been years it was last seen to be used. 

He had pressed it himself into those soft unblemished artistic palms that only bore calluses from handling various musical instruments until that day and never a weapon.  
Teaching the bard basic defense moves with it every free evening after they set up a camp for months so he could protect himself at least from the average robber or a drunkard in a pub that would try to harm him.

It was quite fitting that he would use it on Geralt instead and end the Witcher’s unnaturally prolonged life. He had harmed him just now with his cruel words more than enough to be struck down by it. 

Fully deserving the punishment. 

A fitting fate for the rabid White Wolf of Rivia that bit the hand that had only showed him kindness, one too many times.

The Witcher decided not to step aside and move from the upcoming strike, he had earned it fairly and it was finally time to pay the price.

Earned it more than thousand times with his cruel poisonous and untrue accusations towards the only being that stood by his side against supernatural and human threats alike no matter the danger or unpleasantness caused by it.

The hand with the dagger rose up.

“If you truly want such a blessing why not use your own hands to bring it?”  
said Jaskier and to Geralt’s utter horror pressed the handle of the dagger into Witcher’s slack gloved hands guiding them in his own lifting the sharp tip of it towards the bard’s unprotected throat instead.

A drop of bright ruby blood started to run down the white vulnerable skin the moment sharpened metal touched it. The blue eyes meeting the gold ones with determination pressing it even harder and bringing forth a small trickle of more fresh blood.  
“Go on. If this is truly what you want I won’t stop you. You can get rid of all the shit in your life with just a one quick slash. I am after all, according to you the only cause of all your woes. Bring on your peace I dare you!”

Geralt jerked away and dropped the blade from his fingers as if it burned him like the silver burned monsters. And before it even could hit the ground dragged his little Lark into a tight embrace mumbling desperate apologies with his face buried into the same throat that Jaskier offered to be slit by him moments earlier. Not caring that his own face and hair was getting smeared with blood from the small wound in the other man’s skin.

“I am sorry... I am so sorry, Please forgive me. Please..... I was just angry. So angry...I didn’t mean any of it...”  
Jaskier hesitated only a moment before wrapping his hands around the strong shaking shoulders. Letting the Witcher express his repressed emotions finally freely than the only way he knew until now by lashing out like an injured animal.

“I know. Shhh I know. Already forgiven my friend, whispered the bard in response to the Witcher that was practically crushing him with his inhuman strength. 

At that very moment those quiet words felt to Geralt like the true and greatest blessings that were ever bestowed upon him in his life.

Because they meant he had not lost out of his own foolishness, the only person left that cared about him.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think about this.


End file.
